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Slash Fiction Novel
The Secret Agent and the Assassin
The Secret and the Assassin covers the slash fiction story of the relationship between the secret agent Nikolai and the assassin Guy. Nikolai is a Secret Agent, notably good at his job, but very determined and not exactly pleasant to be around. He’s liked by few in his company aside from his partner and his boss. But that doesn’t matter, he loves his job. Guy is an Assassin. He’s cheap because he’s not subtle nor is he tight lipped. If someone is hiring him, it’s because they either have shallow pockets or they’re making a statement. He usually blows stuff up. He also loves his job. The pair meet each other in this slash fiction novel when they’re both assigned to the same person. Guy to kill, Nikolai to observe. But they ended up paying more attention to each other.
Slash Fiction Genre: Action/Adventure/Romance/Smut
Slash Fiction Rating: NC-17
Slash Fiction Pairings: M/M, with some F/M
Slash Fiction Progress: Complete Novel
Slash Fiction Episode Listing
Guy Solo read a magazine on the deck of a luxury cruise liner. It would slice the seas for a week without touching land. A week of isolation. A week of work. He saw a cluster of women walk by in gloriously small bikinis. Maybe a week of sex.
Guy walked onto the deck of the ship that morning with a skip under his heel and a smile on his face. He supposed that he normally had this manner about him, he was a happy person, but he had a great dreamless sleep alone in his bed. And he had yet to see the woman from last night. Oh, and also, he spotted Mr. Wetsuit stretched out on a sun chair with a seat free beside him. Guy stood beside him. “Good morning Mr. Wetsuit.”
Guy kept his promise and avoided other relationships. He noticed the Brunette avoided him as much as he avoided her, and Guy wondered if she and Mr. Wetsuit’s lady had spoken. At least then the girl would get the hint. He noticed sometimes she shot him pitying looks, and he wondered if she thought he was in the closet. He was a little proud of himself. He forgot he could end a relationship with a woman by pretending to be strictly gay - and vice versa with a male.
Nikolai stepped off the boat, his steel blue eyes alert for Guy. He crossed onto land with no Guy blemishing the scenery. Nikolai didn’t linger. With long strides, he carried a suitcase in one hand and a briefcase in the other, and he didn’t walk as if they threw off his balance.
Guy sat down across from his client. He was an older man, but aged in a fashion opposite to Abraham. He wore a small goatee, for one, and Guy suspected that beneath the man’s tall slender stature lurked a heap of muscle. Guy would consider screwing him, if he didn’t have to worry about his throat getting slit during the process.
Nikolai wiggled his toes as he read the spy novel he bought from the hotel lobby. He felt a contentment wash over him as he read on the bed. He rubbed his feet against each other, reading the purple prose sex scene between the lead and the femme fatale. He closed his eyes, inserting himself as the lead and Guy as the femme fatale. Before he could reach the climax of the scene, the hotel phone began to ring, and he hesitated, watching it.
Nikolai walked around the burned-out facility with Grier. E.V.E. agents scattered themselves across the landscape. Nikolai suspected that they spent their time staring at the grass and discussing shapes in the clouds. Nikolai scowled, and Grier said, “There’s the demolitions expert.” She pointed with a polished fingernail. “Let’s hope he actually knows something.”
Guy leaned his cheek on the knuckles of one hand, waiting for Nikolai. He felt his chest flutter when he turned his head to scan for Nikolai, but he never spotted the tall blonde man. Guy frowned. Throughout the week, Guy hung around in bars and exercise gyms to try to pick up anyone, but he either found no one appealing or got turned down. He wondered if everyone could tell he propped them up against the image of Nikolai to compare their features. Guy sighed and ran his hand through his hair. At least he had a job tonight, he hoped it would clear his head.
Guy awoke as he felt a warmth leave his bedside. He reached for his gun, but found his hand wrapped around an arm. “Please release me,” the voice said.
Nikolai went home quickly before heading to work to change into his business clothes. Once he got to work, he managed to get his belongings to Mags for destruction before someone latched onto him. Mags raised a brow when he approached. She said, “Another one? This is the second time this week, you know.”
Guy felt the crisp sheets turn into thick, translucent water as he sank deeper into them. He felt the weight against his back, as if the water sucked him deeper into its folds. Guy’s eyes whirled around for Nikolai, but he couldn’t see him in the water with him. Guy felt his heart pounding in his ears, the sheets weighing down on his arms, and yet he still felt determined to save himself without Nikolai.
Guy walked into Cain’s office, wishing he kept the cane Nikolai gave him for a disguise. A.B.E.L. repaired the stitching (after scolding Guy for doing such a poor job), but the wound hurt more now than it had when Nikolai had patched him up. He found his eye twitching slightly from the pain. A.B.E.L.’s doctor explained to Guy that Nikolai stretched the wound, and it would be very tender for a few days.
Nikolai leaned back in his desk chair as he put his feet up on his desk. He blinked at his computer monitor and gracefully scratched at his stomach. Grier lifted Nikolai’s legs, slid past him through the alleyway she created, and then set his legs back down on the desk. As she dropped into her own chair, she asked, “Solitaire screwing you?”
As soon as Guy was certain his visitor was asleep, he got out of bed. He waited to see if Nikolai stirred when his weight left the bed, but Nikolai’s body stayed unmoving. Guy went to the bathroom. He pissed, showered, and he dressed again. No matter what he did, his body felt numb. It was as if Nikolai sucked his soul out of him, he decided.
Nikolai looked at the picture in Guy’s wallet before glancing back at Guy. He learned quickly that his assassin was a light sleeper, always ready for an attack, but he also knew that Guy slept in late. So he slid out of bed and pilfered Guy’s wallet out of curiosity, secretly hoping to get to know Guy better. What he found, however, only blossomed the bud of his curiosity.
“What the fuck are you thinking?” Jackie asked. “Do you honestly think giving a girl a necklace that features – no – that showcases the bullet that killed a man who her dad was giving a blowjob to in order to escape this hell hole he was trapped in is a good gift idea?”
Guy stepped out of Cain’s storage facility with a leather satchel and a skip under his heel. He almost began to whistle, but he noticed a man wave him over. “Excuse me,” the man said, lightly touching Guy on the arm. “Could you help me with directions?”
Guy felt exhaustion weigh down on his back as he crawled through his daughter’s window. Steffie sat at her desk, reading, and her eyes rose away from the book to watch her father drop into her bedroom. “I’m just going to shower,” Guy said. “And then I’ll sit with you. We need to talk about something.”
Guy Solo found himself back in Cain’s office. Part of him wanted to just hide away at Steffie’s for a few days, but he knew he would stop worrying about Nikolai once he faced the issue head-on. Now that he knew Steffie was safe, he constantly wondered about Nikolai and whether or not he was still alive. Every time he felt Nikolai’s breath on his neck, he would think Nikolai had died and haunted him.
Nikolai Kuryakin scowled at the snow falling through the night sky as he walked into the A.B.E.L. building. He slipped through the tailor shop front as he brushed snow off his suit jacket, reminding himself that he’d have to pull out his winter coat soon. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands as he showed his ID to the secretary. He passed Mags on the way to his desk, and she grabbed onto his sleeve. “Hey, Kuryakin.” Her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of his face. “What happened to your face?”
Nikolai awoke to find himself chained to the interrogation table. His jaw throbbed, and his black eye felt as if it had swollen shut again. He pulled at the chains around his wrist. “I am conscious,” he weakly murmured. The agent glanced around the familiar interrogation room. He looked at the neutral gray walls, and he avoided making eye contact with his reflection in the two-way mirror. He assumed Guy would either be in the room to his left or the room to his right. He tried to think quickly. What would Guy be saying? Certainly they couldn’t deny a relationship at this point. Why did he let himself fight off the agents?
Guy walked out of A.B.E.L. with a bloody lip, but he seemed fine everywhere else. After much prying, Steele told him that Nikolai would be fine, but he said nothing else. And A.B.E.L. wouldn’t let Guy see Nikolai. He headed back to see Cain and report his failure. He could see the night sky start to lighten as he approached the building. Inside, he found the building free of people, and only one security guard was inside. He passed by with a wave and took the elevator up. He found Cain sitting at his desk.
Nikolai decided he would spend the day in bed. After he landed and walked to his home in, what Jackie called, Bumfuck Nowhere, he crawled into bed and slept for ten hours. When he woke up, he went to the bathroom, took a leak, and then treated himself to a bubble bath.
Guy awoke to the smell of bacon. He turned over and tried to remember where he was, and it only took him a moment to recall Nikolai from the night before. He expected Nikolai to launch into his arms and hold him so close he would regret saying anything at all. He did not expect Nikolai to just leave him in the night.
Guy filed his first load of laundry away into the drawers Nikolai left open for him, and then he wandered into Nikolai’s bathroom. He found the secret agent sitting primly in a bathtub full of bubbles, an Ian Fleming book sitting in his hands. Nikolai looked up after he finished his sentence. Guy sat on the lid of the toilet seat next to the tub and said, “So you like spy novels?”
Over the next few days, both the secret agent and the assassin noticed time moving quickly when they were together. Every morning Nikolai would wake up and expect Guy to be gone, but he would turn over and find Guy sleeping on the other side of the bed, often stirring restlessly. It unnerved him, and he often braced himself to suddenly find the house empty without warning.
Guy cursed under his breath as he felt a sudden heat on the side of his face. His body was instantly blown back, slamming his body against the wall and knocking the wind out of him. He tried to breathe in as he saw flames begin to lap the ground around him. A ringing clogged his ears. There must have been a loud explosion, but he didn’t remember hearing it.
Nikolai merely puttered around the house while Guy was gone. He tried to exercise, he tried to read, and he tried to watch TV, but he found his mind never seemed to focus. He wanted to solve his Guy problem, but he had no one to talk to about it. He couldn’t call Jackie without risk compromising his position, and he couldn’t exactly tell a random stranger his whole story.
Nikolai panted as he nuzzled Guy. He felt the assassin slip out of his grip, watching his form lumber about to toss out the condom and stretch. Guy asked, “So what do your folks think about you being a big queer?”
Guy left Nikolai with a tight hug, a grope on the rear, and a quick smooch. He spent several days checking for the mysterious man to see if he could pin him to a schedule, but he saw no sign of the man. Still, Guy Solo searched with a smile on his face. He thought about spending Christmas with Nikolai, and he peered into the windows of stores already advertising Christmas a bit too early. He considered which days to go visit Steffie, and what would be the best gift to give her.
The following morning, Nikolai and Guy boarded a train before the sun even rose from the sky. Nikolai packed only a fanny pack, and Guy thinned out his trusty satchel. Guy watched Nikolai look out the train window as the sun painted the sky into dawn. Nikolai dressed as a tourist, a New York Yankees ball cap hiding his blue eyes, his scruff and thickening moustache obscuring his face, a map under his arm, his American accent overcoming his Russian one.
Guy hurried to the hotel stairs and ran down to the flight below. He fished his Luger out of his satchel and opened the door, peeking out onto the floor. He didn’t see anyone. He waited, licking his lips, but no one moved. Guy counted the doors, preparing himself for which ones the men would be behind.
Nikolai woke Guy up when the train stopped at their destination, but Solo struggled to get out of his seat. Nikolai wrapped his arm around Guy’s back to help the assassin to his feet, and Guy gritted his teeth as he put weight on his ankle. “Jesus Christ,” Guy cursed.
As Nikolai shaved (after Jackie’s demands) and changed into a suit, he recapped Jackie on the events of the night. Jackie stayed quiet, watching Nikolai carefully while chewing on the inside of her cheek. Guy took a few painkillers and dropped into bed. The secret agent tied his tie and asked, “Are we driving?”
Episode Thirty-Five: The Medusa Affair Nikolai awoke to the sound of a phone ringing. His dream fled from his thoughts, but anxiety lingered in…
After Guy hobbled out of the bathroom on his crutches, he found Red sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich. She said, “Have fun with Nikolai?”
“I could not find the picture in his satchel,” Nikolai whispered, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. “I even went through his clothes once I was certain he was asleep.”
Guy sat on a dock. His feet and ankles rested in the water, and his jeans were rolled up to just below his knees. He propped himself up with his arms as he leaned back and enjoyed the sun on his skin. Looking around for anyone else, Guy started to unbutton his shirt in the hopes of letting the sun kiss his chest.
Nikolai’s thoughts shot back and forth the next couple of weeks. He struggled between wanting time to slow down, like when he read with Guy on the couch or cuddled with him in bed, and wanting time to speed up, like during breakfast when Guy and Jackie discussed deeper meanings of books and movies or when the pair laughed over a pop culture pun Nikolai didn’t understand.
Guy and Nikolai shifted on the bed so Nikolai could snuggle into the assassin’s chest. Guy adjusted the pillow behind him to allow himself to sit upright. He began, “It was one of my first jobs, and I was supposed to kill some bigwig that was the head of this company. So I took a low level job to try to get close to him-”
Nikolai drifted awake as Guy slipped out from under his grasp. Through narrowed eyes, he watched the assassin hurry towards the bathroom, and a sliver of light reached into the room before Guy closed the bathroom door. Nikolai rubbed his eyes, and he glanced over the clock. His head clouded over as dreams began to breach his mind again. He heard distant gunfire in the back of his mind, pulling him in.
Guy’s mind was full of fog. A sticky, beer-ridden fog that just managed to block out Nikolai’s face and make Guy think of something more important – his penis. He moved from his stool towards a stool farther down the bar where a lady, he squinted to try to guess her age, but decided it could be anywhere between 30 and 40, sat alone. Over the sound of music pounding into the bar, he offered to buy her a drink, but she replied, “I’m with someone.”
Nikolai curled up around a pillow on his bed and listened to Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’ on repeat. He heard the door to his bedroom open, and he didn’t even feel a flutter of hope that Guy was the silhouette in the doorway. He simply hugged his pillow tighter as he felt a weight on the bed and long fingers stroking his hair.
Jackie and Nikolai stood outside of the door to his childhood home. Despite its small, compact form, the house seemed to tower over both of them. Jackie kicked some salt beneath her shoes and squeezed Nikolai’s hand. “Nervous?” he asked.
Nikolai and Jackie spent the remainder of Christmas with his family. In the privacy of his childhood bedroom, Nikolai spoke with Jackie about his encounter with Alex, and he vented about his desire to have a real relationship. Nikolai didn’t notice how tight-lipped his partner got when he ranted about Guy leaving him, but she was supportive in helping him find a new lasting relationship. And Nikolai appreciated the support.
Guy settled into his temporary hotel room, though he spent the majority of the time at Quint Ryland’s office reading and avoiding Fleur. Red dropped off Guy’s belongings, and she came back and forth throughout the month, staying with Guy for the major holidays. Guy looked forward to her visits, if only to keep time progressing.
Nikolai swam alone in A.B.E.L.’s swimming pool. In that moment, Nikolai appreciated the stigma associated with being homosexual, if only for the solitude in the pool and on the weights in the gym. Once and a while Georg or Jackie would join him, but their company was never unwanted, unlike some of the other agents that normally shared the gym with him.
Nikolai stood outside of Georg Westermark’s apartment door. He took a deep breath before he knocked. He heard rustling on the other side of the door before it opened. The broad, Swedish agent stood with one stray curl out of his perfect, strawberry blond hair. “Kuryakin,” he said.
Guy Solo sat in his office and stared at the computer monitors on his desk, giving him a view into each one of the brothel’s rooms in case anything went wrong. Of course, on more than one occasion he took advantage of his voyeurism, but he had yet to actually use any of the prostitutes. Whenever he thought of touching one of them himself, he remembered the intimate way in which Nikolai and Georg Westermark had kissed.
Nikolai and Jackie sat at their desks, with the latter squinting at a piece of paper. With her voice low, Jackie said, “I can’t read this memo.”
Guy sat across from Cain in Cain’s office. His brown eyes ran over every curve of Cain’s face and dipped them into every wrinkle while the man flipped through documents on his desk. Guy was about to leave to meet Cox (though Guy told Cain he was meeting another client), and Cain asked him to pop by his office before the assassin left for a few days. Cain finally unearthed a file folder and slid it across the table to Guy, folding his hands together as he watched Guy with his green eyes.
Nikolai sat on a stall in Georg Westermark’s bathroom. Hair products of every size, smell, and colour littered his countertop, but they all sat upright, as if they stood at attention, and his counter was clear of any spills or even dust. The smells overwhelmed Nikolai a touch, and he felt like he sat in a cosmetic store, nearest to all the soaps and hand creams.
Guy found himself sitting again in Cain’s office. Cain’s green eyes stared intently into Guy, and the assassin shifted in his seat. “So Lockhart and Guerrero are definitely dead then?” Cain asked.
Nikolai stayed sitting in his chair with a file in his hand as Steele made the announcement. He called everyone into the area, and he folded his hands together as he said the words.
Guy sat in his office at the brothel, absently thinking about Nikolai while his brown eyes scanned over the monitors that contained strangers fucking. He wasn’t terribly broken-hearted over lying to Nikolai about what Cox thought of him, and he figured if he meant that much to Nikolai, it was worth keeping up the lie. Plus, there was the chance that Nikolai would hate him for revealing the truth.
Nikolai closed the door behind him as he stepped into Georg’s office. An opened tube of chips and two empty cans of pop sitting on his desk were the only marks of junk food in the Swede’s office, though Nikolai suspected more lingered in his desk drawers. Only a single strand of Georg’s hair sat out of place, and his suit jacket hung on the back of his chair instead of covering his black dress shirt and board shoulders.
When Guy walked back into the brothel, he checked in with his secretary to see how Vance treated the staff. His secretary said, “He just did his thing, talked for a little bit, mainly bragged about his back, and then fell asleep. He wasn’t into any bondage or rape fetishes. He just wanted some regular humping, cuddling, and then he took a nap. Well, my understanding is that he kept talking, fell asleep, and just sort of kept mumbling even though he was asleep.” She shrugged and added, “The girl really liked him.”
Guy and Jackie sat in the waiting room of A.B.E.L.’s hospital wing. The waiting room could hold a dozen people, but it sat empty aside from the two. Guy and Jackie sat on either end of a row of chairs, and Guy wished there was more distance between them. The assassin tried to avoid looking at her face in his peripheral vision. Guy’s leg bounced up and down, and Jackie rubbed her temples. “How long do you think he’s going to be in surgery for?” Guy asked.
Nikolai stepped out of the car and leaned heavily on his cane while he stared at the house. The small, white house looked different in oranges, reds, and greens of the fall trees and shrubs surrounding it. Everything felt new and different, but it felt more like waking up and not knowing where you are. Every day Nikolai had to push, and he realized that he had been kidding himself that a return to this house would feel like normalcy.
Agent Adams stood with his hands in his coat pockets, staring up at the construction of his new A.B.E.L. headquarters. He reclaimed his position as the only A.B.E.L. head when it was clear that Agent Steele would be an adequate, not to mention competent, new A.B.E.L. head. He didn’t want the competition. He knew Steele respected and admired authority, so he would take advantage of that while he could.